Due Revival REDUX
by Treesh Aradia
Summary: If she had learnt anything through her countless years, it was that suffering never ended and different periods were due revivals...
1. Chapter 1

**Due Revival**

**Introduction**

50 score years is a long time to forget. For humans, a lot can happen – things change, people adapt. Countries fall, stars cease to exist. For humans. However she was not human and she has not been one for more than six hundred years. For her, nights bleed into weeks and then into years and eternity is not some fable or myth that humans create. Eternity just is. So when the new world opened up and swallowed the old one whole, she took to it like she took to industrialisation and capitalisation, without worry about stolen moments or snatches of happiness being taken from her unceremoniously. She had eternity; she could create those moments any time she wanted. If she had learnt anything through her countless years, it was that suffering never ended and different periods were due revivals...

Prometheus 5 - Las Vegas, New America in the New World. Year 3010.

"Do we have Prometheus 5? Or have I been gone so long, the world has turned on itself, again?" The urge to wretch hit her, a strong powerful wave that threatened to uproot her from her seemingly confident stance. Asking that question, post-sleep, had taken almost everything out of her and, so did the possible answer no.

"We do, ma'am. The world is as it is: ours as we still remember it to be. How are your lungs?" The elder human, Tarquin asked, slightly annoyed but not showing it as his commander wrote him off with a wave of her hand.

"Worry less about an immortal and more about what I can do for PMT5, now that I am out of deep-sleep." She considered herself adaptable. She even thought of change as something amusing. A brief hint of uncertainty reared its head as she remembered how one change has made an indelible impact on her current routines. How one insignificant crush had caused such an upheaval. She still suffered the brunt of its demise. Shaking off her rumination, she continued to listen to the updates offered by Tarquin.

"Oh yes, do ladies still wear hateful corsets and glitter stiletto boots? I have a ball to attend I believe." She asked, as she left the room with Tarquin racing to keep up with her contradictory quick pace.

Unknown - Amsterdam, Netherlands in the New World.

He paused in mid-step, feeling the brush of a familiar tingling at the back of his head. A soft mental tickle, like the re-awakening of his truly dead synapses. He remains frozen, hand still clutching the laser bow.

"Barn" He said in his mother tongue. A word he has not used in more than a millennium and has no need for in a hundred years.

Old Orleans, New America in the New World. Year 3010.

The ball had an old feel, unlike what the remaining elders were accustomed to now – dazzling, glittering and intergalactic. Old Orleans was true to its name: nostalgic with a sort of arcana that breathed string music and the 1800s. It also served humans. _As beverages_.

_Classy._

For Wilheim the First, it was apropos.

For Pamela it told a different story – hers was a siege long over, PMT5 had lost and in doing so, Wilheim would reap the benefits of her failure. She was bitter. Having wretched the portion of a cow after suspended stasis and being told that Compton had fallen in the final battle, she was to take his place as leader of Prometheus and bear the brunt of Wilheim's punishment, Pamela was just about ready to walk in sunlight.

Having felt nothing left of her maker's bond with her, not expecting to after how bitterly and final they had separated 900 years ago, Pamela Swynford De Beaufort was well and truly alone. And that was how he found her.

"My lady."

Not yet, Wilheim, not _ever_. "Wilheim."

"Come now, does 10 score years truly make a difference to how we should interact with each other? You are truly cold-blooded."

She pauses, unsure of how much he will allow her, "No, but killing Bill and brutally taking the lives of 900 of my men has certainly affected how I am going to talk to you." In for the kill, then.

He merely lifts an eyebrow before laughing, "Ah, Pamela, you entertain me. Really. And if you did not already sign the license, I would gladly kill 900 more, just for the pleasure of your eternal company." He kisses her on the cheek before leaving her alone, in the balcony, bitterer than when she first entered.

"Be ready in five minutes. I would like to announce our merger, wife."

"Fucker." She breathes out the breath she did not realise she was holding, wishing she had Eric Northman, Viking Warrior, there as her counsel. But the span of years in perfect quiet told her he had truly gone to Godric. And with that, Pamela quiets the ache and quells the bitter memories of their parting and the shocking jolt of feeling their ties severed, and goes out into the awaiting crowd.

Tarquin Talbot was submissive and mellow and he hated that about himself.

He was analytical and if he were just a little more assertive, he could have prevented all of this: The war with the behemoth feudal city Cronus, Bill's pride and imperial rule that led to sacrificing 900 able-bodied men and vamp, Pamela's depression and resulting stasis, accepting the summons from Wilheim the First – Elder vampire from even before Jesus existed – and subsequent capitulation in the war treaty.

As Helena stood by him, as they listened to Wilheim's announcement of the Cronus-Prometheus merger and the Machiavellian union between himself and Pam, all Tarquin could do was grip the stem of his wine glass unless it bent.

However, if he were anything more than human, he would have felt the undercurrent stirred by the quiet entrance of his queen's maker.


	2. Chapter 2

_Mama told me when I was young_

_Come sit beside me, my only son_

_And listen closely to what I say._

_And if you do this_

_It will help you some sunny day._

**New York City, USA. 1973.**

"Lynyrd Skynyrd, I'll eat their innards. I'll eat lizards, I'll-"

"That's more than enough, Pam." Her maker says dryly. He told her, never drink from a crack addict and now, now she was too unnaturally happy. It was surreal.

"Can we?"

_Take your time,_

_Don't live too fast,_

_Troubles will come _

_And they will pass._

He raises his eyebrows, "Can we…eat lizards?"

She laughs, drawing her skirts together; she was reliving her Edwardian days with her feathered hats, balloon sleeves and high-waisted draped skirts. "No silly, find the group and eat them!"

_Go find a woman and you'll find love,_

_And don't forget son,_

"For fuck's sake, Pam, get rid of that high. We meet with Godric in an hour."

_There is someone up above._

"We're just going to the station to pick up cattle."

"Pam!"

"Fine!"

**Bon Temp, USA. 2012.**

_Forget your lust for the rich man's gold_

"I like the band," she says, as the song plays in the background, the rich drawl of the singer enveloping the space in her living room.

_All that you need is in your soul,_

_And you can do this if you try. _

But he doesn't see her, Sookie. He is back in the 1973, and in the deep recesses of his mind, he relives an old memory of his childe, dancing insouciantly in the progressive drawing room of their New York Townhouse.

"Hmm."

"Eric? Have you ever heard this song before?"

And in his head, he hears _her_ laugh, soft, delirious, secretly **his**.

_All that I want for you my son,_

_Is to be satisfied._

"No."

_Go find a woman and you'll find love_


	3. Chapter 3

**The Moon Goddess Emporium, USA. 2011**

He stands there, rather like a goldfish out of his tank. Part flabbergasted, part furious and trying to decide how to exact punishment. In the end, Eric Northman does not hold back his fury at her disobedience. "You disobeyed me."

Her response was immediate, "I am not going to let you die for Sookie," and not at all satisfying.

"You could have killed her!" He does not see her face crumble, or the way she shuffles backward. All he saw was red, and dust. Forget the way she diverted her gaze, trying to escape his line of sight. In all of their hundred odd years together, he has finally managed to do the impossible – savagely put her in her place.

When a lull approaches and the urgency to end Sookie attenuates, she - humbled and small - tries to approach. He is much too preoccupied with thoughts about survival, surprisingly, everyone's survival, and Sookie's fate racing through his mind. But it is not with thoughtless, reckless abandon that he spits out at her: "Get out of here before I kill you."

She does not wait for the dust to settle. She leaves and does not look back.

_What the hell am I doing here?_

_I don't belong here_

**A club somewhere in Macau, China. 2015.**

_When you were here before_

_Couldn't look you in the eye_

There were drugs - So very many different types, being peddled. Pushers in the form of local whores, bartenders, door bitches and anyone who has tried DV, sold them in little condom packets along with the actual condoms. All for the great ending.

And in Feng, an anti-discriminatory species club, the drug-induced festive mood also encouraged bottle sales. One table in particular could single-handedly fund the rent of the entire underground club for a week.

"To Pam! Congratulations on making partner at the Feng, Chuan and De Beaufort Conglomerate."

She smiles her thanks, trying to temper her excitement. However, she continued with: "I'll dance to that!"

And in the middle of the dance floor, with the strobe lights illuminating only parts of the floor at a time, she almost misses him.

_You're just like an angel_

_Your skin makes me cry_

_You float like a feather_

_In a beautiful world_

His hair seemed a shade lighter under the flashing lights, but the susurration of the music and the visceral jolt of their maker-progeny bond confirmed his presence. "Eric?" She breathes his name quietly, muted syllables escaping her parted lips.

_I wish I was special_

_You're so fucking special_

Their eyes meet, and a century's worth of memories surges to the fore -

_But I'm a creep_

_I'm a weirdo_

\- until she remembers the way they part, the words he spat at her, the goodbye he never properly gave.

What the hell am I doing here?

I don't belong here

"Where are you going?" Her companion questions without receiving an answer. She is long gone before the tall Caucasian man manages to call out her name.


End file.
